Principal Training
by Tidia
Summary: Pre-movie, Dastan is new to the palace and has to catch up with his new brothers when it comes to school and weapons training.
1. Chapter 1

Principal Training

Palace life was more than Dastan expected. He did not realize that being the adopted son of the King would mean fine clothes and an education. Actually, he didn't know what he thought; he only knew that he was given an opportunity. His new father had high expectations for him, and he wanted to be worthy.

As much as he did not like studying, his tutors said he had a sharp mind. He had to master reading and writing. Cyrus, the tutor, reminded him that one had to be quick in the mind to be quick in battle. Dastan never wanted the King to believe he was dumb.

When he first arrived his Uncle Nizam arranged for him to learn how to ride a horse. The next step was weaponry, which Dastan was the most interested. This is where he could prove to his new family that he could be a great soldier in battle.

However, he became crestfallen when he saw the training would be done under the tutelage of Thuxra, The Captain of the Guard. The gleam in Thuxra'seyes let Dastan know the Captain had not forgotten the merry chase he had been led on, nor the embarrassment at being reprimanded by the King.

"You do not belong here street rat." Thuxra announced once they were alone.

Dastan held steadfast, accepting what Thuxraasked of him each day. It was torture, being required to hold positions and not move for hours, or repeating the same movement for a long period of time until it was done to the Captain's unattainable level.

He bore the Captain's displeasure each day, exhausted. No one noticed Dastan's struggle as he interacted with his new brothers Tus and Garsiv, hoping they would like him. He wished he could train with them.

He went on the balcony of his room, looking out onto the city. It was before the evening repast when Dastan was supposed to be changing into cleaner clothing. "I need to think," he said to the night air.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Tus pulled back the drape to reveal himself. Dastan had not heard him entering.

"No. Yes." Dastan tried to exert control over his thoughts about the Captain of the Guard. He did not know how he could continue at this pace.

Tus clasped his hands behind him. "Princes do not talk to themselves."

He wasn't in the mood to jest since he was distracted, "Yes, Tus."

But Tus wanted to play, "Unless-do you give yourself the right answers?"

Dastan forced a smile. "I hope so." He would have asked for help. But his so-called brothers did not seem to be happy with him all the time, still adjusting to his presence. Dastan did not want to press his luck and be the annoying brother who could not solve his problems. He couldn't always run to his family.

On the balcony he liked to sit on the railing, back against the wall and relax. He fell asleep between the time Tus left him and Garsiv had a grip on his arm. "You fell asleep on the balcony! You could have fallen over and then know who would have been at fault?"

"Me?" Dastan hopped down, but Garsiv didn't remove his grip.

"No, Tus and myself. Father would have punished us." Garsiv pushed him towards the bedroom. "Get ready. We're expected."

Dastan tried not to be distracted during the meal. He did want anyone to know there was something amiss. One glance at his father kept him grounded. He wanted to stay here among his new family. He would fight to stay.

The next day he still had no answers, filled with a mixture of determination and dread, he went to training circle with trepidation of what Thuxra had planned.

"In battle there is limited space to move. You will be unable to climb away, but you will still be attacked." Thuxra tied one of his ankles to the wood pillar. He could move two steps before he was hampered. He had to also be careful not to loop around the pillar.

Thuxra tossed him the wooden sword, then began his attack with his own wooden sword. Dastan paid attention to the attack, his hair damp with sweat. Although Thuxra was not praising him, Dastan knew he was holding his own. He felt confident, even with his limitation, until the Captain of the Guard backed away, threw the wooden sword and pulled out his real sword.

The metal gleamed wickedly. Dastan swallowed his nervousness. "Do I get my own blade?"

Thuxra did not reply, and started his attack, chipping away at the wooden sword that Dastan offered in defense. Dastan became alarmed as pieces of the sword fell away from the assault. He would have laughed at the absurdity. He was going to lose a hand to the man who wanted to originally cut it off in the marketplace.

"Stop!" He heard a voice call out. "Stop!"

Thuxra had the sword held high, but upon hearing the voice brought it down slowly, finally halting and bringing it to his side.

Dastan sighed, he had never been so happy to see Garsiv.

"What is going on here?" Garsiv made his way into the ring to stand between Thuxra and Dastan.

Thuxra bowed. "Prince Garsiv, we are working on Prince Dastan's swordsmanship."

Garsiv glanced at the sword at Thuxra's side, then to the rope tied to Dastan's ankle. "Not like that. I was never trained that way."

"You did not have bad habits that needed to be broken, my Prince." Thuxra bowed again.

Garsiv sighed, waving his hand in a dismissal of the comment. "My father is expecting us, Dastan come with me."

Dastan untied himself from the post, not waiting for Thuxra to release him. They made their way in a hurried pace to the palace, once there Garsiv pulled him aside to a deserted hallway. "Dastan, are you all right?"

"I am well." Dastan moved towards the exit. "I thought Father was expecting us."

Garsiv placed his arm up to block Dastan's way. "I used that as an excuse." Garsiv started to pace. "I do not understand. Thuxra was using a real blade and looked about to kill you."

One part of Dastan wanted his family to know and to help him, the other part was hesitant. "It is just training."

Garsiv shook his head, he did not believe Dastan's story. "No. You need to tell Father."

"No." This time Dastan did pull away.

"Why not?" Garsiv was dumbfounded.

Dastan lowered his voice, kicked at the floor before answering, "They will all hate me."

"Who?" Garsiv was impatient on most days, but he had never been threatened within the palace walls. This was new to him.

"The guards, the soldiers," Dastan explained. If he were to speak about Thuxra, then the Captain would be punished. The guards would blame Dastan, and make it uncomfortable for him.

At least Garsiv was pensive and did not reply that it did not matter if he was well liked or not. "We are at least going to tell Tus."

"Can you not leave this between the two of us?" Dastan asked, bordering on begging. He wished Garsiv did not know about his plight.

"No." Garsiv began pulling him along through the palace. No one stopped the two princes, thwarted by the fierceness of Dastan's older brother.

They made it to Tus's door, but Dastan was adamant about not entering. "I can handle the Captain."

Garsiv ignored him, knocked once, then entered. "Not alone, little brother and neither do you have to."

The servants were dismissed from the room, and Tus listened to Garsiv. Dastan went outside in the balcony, distancing himself from the story, but he didn't leave. He saw all the opportunities, two steps, a leap and he would be out, but as much as he protested it warmed him that his adopted brothers cared.

"It's unacceptable." There was the sound of a chair against the floor, and then Tus appeared at the balcony. "He should be punished."

Garsiv followed behind.

Dastan sat on the balcony with a quick glance down. "It's not so bad. He doesn't like me because I embarrassed him at the bazaar."

"You are a son of the King now, Dastan. He needs to put the pettiness away or be punished for it."

"He is afraid no one will like him," Garsiv added with a snort. It was obvious he did not care about such trivial matters.

Dastan shook his head. "They have to like you. You were born here, born a prince, but I'm different."

Tus turned his head towards Garsiv, then turned back to Dastan, "I know we have not been as kind to you as we should be."

Dastan shrugged, jumping down from his seat. "You were already a family and I am an outsider." Dastan squared his shoulders. "I will prove myself."

Tus gave him a half smile, then tousled Dastan's hair. "You already have proven yourself to the highest authority- our father."

Dastan raked a hand through his hair. His adopted brothers did not understand. "It's not enough. You did not ask for a new brother, one who is not of your blood. I have to prove myself to both of you, too, and the others. They are all looking for me to make a mistake."

Tus rubbed a hand down his face. "He has a point."

Garsiv was stunned, his mouth opening and closing before he found his voice, "That does not make a difference. We need to help him."

"Will you give us a chance to help you, to think of a plan?"

"Yes, if you wish." Dastan didn't want to seem too eager, but his ideas had not been working so maybe his brothers would.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Babysitting. They were babysitting him. He was not left alone with Thuxra while he trained. They rearranged their schedules or hid from their responsibilities. They could not keep it up for long, and Dastan felt Thuxra was biding his time.

Thuxra was kind to the true princes, praising them even when they were just spectators. Tus and Garsiv did not realize the praise was just as harsh as the abuse of training had been. Dastan was homesick for the streets. At least there he knew how to defend himself- here in the palace he had to form a thick skin instead.

Garsiv was with him today, taking the time to sharpen one of his swords with a whetstone. Dastan was working with a stuffed form, pretending it was Thuxra. Each swat and slice was invigorating even though Thuxra kept correcting him. Dastan felt he was truly improving.

It was short-lived as a servant interrupted them. "Prince Garsiv, you are wanted by your father."

"The King?" Garsiv jumped down from the fence he was sitting upon.

"Yes, Prince Garsiv." The servant bowed again.

Garsiv looked at the main palace, then back at Thuxra to return his gaze to the servant. "Now?"

"That is what I have been told," the servant said quietly.

"Has Dastan been called?" Garsiv stepped closer to Dastan.

The servant shifted uncomfortably. "No, the request was for Prince Garsiv only."

"Garsiv, Father is waiting." Dastan sighed, but gave his permission.

"I'll be back, Dastan." It was said to Captain of the Guard, not to Dastan.

Dastan watched his brother walk away for a while, ignoring the feeling of Thuxra's eyes on him. Dastan returned to his forms, remained diligent, placing more energy into his thrusts.

"Face me," Thuxra announced as he sliced the air with his sword.

Dastan swallowed the lump in his throat and got into position. Instead of feeling scared, he felt anger. He was tired of being intimidated and tormented.

Thuxra must have realized this, and did not pause in his attack, giving no time for recovery. Soon the sweat was stinging Dastan's eyes and he was faltering. He tripped on his tired feet and hit the ground hard. He was tempted to turn his head away as the blade came forward, but figured he would meet his end face on.

"Stop!" Uncle Nazim yelled out. "Explain yourself!" He ran into the ring with his vibrant scarlet robe flapping.

Thuxra had the common sense to stand down and bow his head. He did not answer the king's brother.

"This matter will be brought to the King," Nizam said as he helped Dastan to his feet and dusted him off. He placed a hand on Dastan's shoulder and guided him away from the practice area. "Is this the reason why the other young princes have been neglecting their duties?"

His uncle was just as smart of a man as his father. Dastan tried to explain himself and his brothers. "They were trying to help me. I did not ask them to."

Uncle Nizam chuckled and shook his head. "They are good brothers, but you should have come to me or your father."

"Yes, Uncle." Dastan had followed along with his uncle's pace, wondering why Nizam had come for him. "Where are we going?"

"To see your father. He wants to see all his sons." His uncle presented him with an apple he pulled from the pocket of his robes.

Dastan usually relished the rare gift of the pomegranate—it had been his uncle's private treat for him from time to time since he had come to the palace. This time was different, and he was not hungry for the fruit as his stomach flipped with nervousness. "Oh. You are going to talk to him about Thuxra."

"Yes, Dastan. I must."

"Very well." Dastan was resigned. He would get in trouble, his brothers too. He would be revealed at being a poor swordsman and incapable of learning. Then all the men would hate him. He would have to return to the streets.

Nizam stopped short. "Do you think Thuxra should continue to hurt you?"

Dastan fidgeted from foot to foot uncomfortable with his uncle's full gaze on him. "No."

Nizam continued, "If he is allowed to do so it makes the king look weak. Does that sound right?"

"No." Dastan could never imagine Sharaman looking weak.

"Then you understand why I must tell him." They continued walking to the throne room.

"Yes, I understand now," Dastan answered, he was in less trouble, and would be staying at the palace a little longer. There was still another issue, which was not going away, "But, they will still all hate me."

Nizam rubbed his chin and Dastan would swear he was hiding a smirk. "Dastan, they will not hate you. In time when you prove yourself in the field of battle, you will be respected. But, until then, you are a Prince of Persia and under the protection of the king." Nizam ruffled Dastan's hair. "They have to like you."

"I –" Dastan started in confusion, his brothers had not told him.

"Think, Dastan, do they really like Tus and Garsiv?"

The servants did not smile at Tus and Garsiv. No one was very friendly to his brothers. Dastan went out of his way to treat the servants well, especially the kitchen staff. "Well, no, not really."

They were at the door of the throne room. "Now go and explain all this to your father—I believe he would rather hear from his son. He'll be proud of you and your brothers."

Dastan nodded, believing his uncle knew best even though he would have preferred Nizam to have told the king. But his brothers were there and they would stand beside him. For the first time he thought that he was where he was supposed to be- surrounded by family.

The end


End file.
